


An Omega Isn't Just An Armpiece Decoration

by fabricdragon



Series: ABO shuffle [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alpha M, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Omega James Bond, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Transgender, of a sort (Alpha Omega gender)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: James Bond-ladies man, epitome of masculine arrogance, the perfect Alpha... is an Omega.and the new M can't be kept in the dark for much longer...Title from the fact that Bond rather notably wore an Omega watch in  Casino Royale...This is a WIP and will be updated...erratically.





	1. Chapter 1

Bond sat in the first class lounge at the airport, listening to the conversation swirl around him and watching the news. Since the news in question was talking about the tragic accidental death of the last man he assassinated, it was far more interesting than the normal social chatter going on.

“Well, I for one don’t think the Saudis are that far wrong: an Omega shouldn’t be traveling without an Alpha–it’s just common sense.”

Bond glanced idly over at the paunchy businessman in the tasteless but expensive clothing who was talking–and tracked slightly to one side. A stunningly good looking woman wearing an Omega collar was sitting playing with her phone. The Alpha–Bond assumed he was an Alpha; a Beta with an Omega usually tried harder to stay in shape–turned and asked the Omega if she would like to travel all by herself without an Alpha to protect her.

She turned vacant and puzzled eyes to him and asked, “Why?”

He turned back and started going on at the other men about how Omegas are happiest when–Bond tuned him out and watched the Omega flash sharper and more intelligent looking eyes at the back of his head before looking around the lounge in an annoyed fashion. Bond caught her eye and smirked faintly; she looked a bit startled, but eventually smirked back before going back to her phone.

Bond sat waiting and nursing his drink– _pathetic drinks they had here, really_ –when one of the men had the stupid idea to drag the quiet man drinking at the bar into some argument they were having.

“Since he’s not involved, he can break the tie.” One of the men poked at Bond; Bond turned with a low, rumbling growl that caused the idiot to suddenly widen his eyes and back away. “S-sorry!”

“What convinced you that poking at people you don’t know is a good idea?” Bond forced himself to settle back onto his bar seat.

“Errr… too much to drink? Sorry... just thought you could settle an argument, we have a sort of tie…”

“I wasn’t listening to you: I have no idea what your argument is about.”

“OH! Uh…”

One of the other men–the Alpha whose Omega was sitting there pretending not to watch, pretending not to hope he got punched in the face probably–started talking hurriedly, “About whether Omegas should be allowed to travel by themselves.”

 _They were still on about that?_ “Why?”

“See, I told you any other Alpha would agree with me–”

“I didn’t say I agreed with you, I asked why you were arguing over it.” _Still arguing over it._

“Oh… well… A few politicians have been campaigning on the idea that the laws permitting an Omega to travel without an escort should be repealed.”

Bond snorted. “Oh…” he shrugged. “Once they invented heat suppressants, it’s as safe for an Omega to travel as it is for anyone.”

“Well…” The man was clearly at a loss for Bond not agreeing with him. “The Omega might… get in trouble, they’re not…”

“You mean the Omega might find another Alpha,” Bond said flatly. “Most of the times that’s what the law is all about: Alphas so insecure about themselves that they’re afraid their Omega would run off with the next halfway decent Alpha or Beta they saw.” Bond looked the man up and down. “If an Alpha was treating his Omega properly he wouldn’t worry about them running off, just about them being safe, right?”

Bond saw the Omega biting her cheek to keep from laughing and took pity on her. He turned away to watch the screen showing sports. After a while, being in a vicious mood, he spoke up, “Oh, almost forgot to pick up a bit of jewelry for my Omega–I suppose it’s a good thing the plane is delayed.”

Sure enough, the man rose to the bait. “Oh? Buying her off?”

“Hmm?” Bond put on his best puzzled look. “No… Most Omegas have a bit of the magpie to them, you know. Every time I go on a trip, I buy her something valuable–let’s her know I can provide for my Omega. That’s what they all want out of an Alpha: protection and providing.” He walked away.

As he was going to board his plane he made a point of walking past the lounge: she had a brand new gold bracelet on her wrist. Bond smirked a bit. _Well, she had to put up with him, poor thing, might as well get more jewelry out of it._

*

He reported in to Mallory– _M; he’d never get used to calling anyone else M_ –and told him he didn’t need medical, or psych, or anything but to turn in his equipment. Mallory tried to argue with him but eventually Bond just left and went down to the Quartermaster’s.

As usual, it looked peculiarly like a before and after photo of a disaster recovery: one half of the room was full of people working at desks, talking into communication equipment and working on technical issues; the other half looked like an explosion in an electronics factory–the left half this time.

Bond flashed his very best predatory smile at one of the minions and they immediately looked panicked in the direction Q was in–behind that pile of debris, apparently: it was always the easiest way to find him, because the minions were convinced Q was the only defense against most Double Os. Bond sauntered over to find Q–or at least someone wearing Q’s pants and with a good approximation of his ass–half under some pile of parts, yelling instructions, and holding out a hand for apparently random tools.

Bond decided not to interrupt and stood there appreciating the fact that, under all those layers and cardigans, the Quartermaster apparently had an excellent ass.

All good things eventually coming to an end, Q pulled himself out from under the electronics and sat up. His hair looked even more disheveled than usual and his shirt had ridden up, revealing surprisingly toned abdominals–Bond filed this information away for later reference.

“Quartermaster,” Bond said blandly and politely. “You did ask me to return my equipment in person.”

“I asked you to do so because LAST time I got half an earpiece, part of a gun, and something that you CANNOT convince me was part of our equipment package dropped off in the middle of the night.” Q glared at him.

“That was when I got back.” Bond put his best innocent look on.

Q just pointed to a table. Bond walked over and carefully got out what was left of his equipment and put it down. Q made a desperate whining noise in the back of his throat.

“How…? HOW did you break that? You shouldn’t have been ABLE to break that?!” Q honestly looked on the verge of tears.

Bond rocked backwards on his heels, “Errr… I had no idea it meant so much to you.”

“I built that to withstand anything you could throw at it.” Q was now whispering and sagging into a chair, staring at the equipment in front of him. He picked up a piece that was bent in a peculiar direction and started petting it as though it was one of his cats. “I’m sorry… I tried… I should have known he’d find a way to destroy you…”

Bond started backing up worriedly. He finally saw the familiar Technicolor hair of Q’s chief minion and flagged her down. “Is he alright?” he whispered.

“Why, what’s he doing…?” she trailed off as she saw him putting his head in his hands and moaning.

“Quartermaster? When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

“Wednesday,” he moaned into his hands.

“It’s SATURDAY!” R yelped.

“Double O Four, Eight, and Seven all had critical missions with…” he trailed off and stared mournfully at the equipment, “brand new equipment.” He resumed petting the bent and twisted piece. “Reinforced carbon/titanium… I don’t know how…? It would have taken a hydraulic press to do this!”

Bond refrained from mentioning that he’d jammed it into the hydraulic press to keep from being crushed. “Perhaps you should get some sleep, Quartermaster?”

“Can’t… took the last dose of stimulant two hours before Four got on the extraction plane.”

Bond glanced at R and held up an injector pen–she nodded. “Standard stimulants? Like the kind we use in the field?”

“Yes, why?”

Bond pushed the pen up against his arm and hit the trigger.

“OW!” Q howled and then blinked owlishly at him. “What the HELL, Bond?”

“The fact that you don’t know I just gave you the standard antagonist for the stimulant means you REALLY need to sleep, Q.” He got one arm; R got the other.

“Keep him away from the equipment!” Q said urgently at R. “He fed the gun to a Komodo dragon last time!”

“Sure he did, Q,” R said soothingly–she obviously thought Q was incoherent and hallucinating.

“Actually, I did.” Bond coughed apologetically. “Or at least the Dragon did chew on it.”

“What? You’re kidding…” R stopped moving and stared at him.

“Why does no one believe me?” Q mumbled.

Bond sighed and picked him up. “Get the door to his office?” he asked R. “He has a spare blanket in there somewhere.”

“…used it to put out a fire…” mumbled Q, who looked positively adorable falling asleep in Bond’s arms.

Bond got him settled on the sofa and went out. Sadly, he now HAD to go to medical to get a replacement cartridge for the pen. _Well, if all three agents were just getting back, they’d be busy and hopefully I can just sneak in and–_

No such luck.

“YOU haven’t been cleared through medical!” one of the doctors snapped at him.

“Yes, I have, cleared through medical and then turned in my equipment,” Bond protested. “I just came back to get a dose of antagonist replaced.”

“No, you haven’t. No one’s been complaining NEARLY enough to have cleared you.” The doctor was glaring at him and Bond was debating just how much trouble he’d get into for tranqing a doctor when Four was wheeled in in fairly bad condition, protesting that he just needed access to a good medical kit. Bond took advantage of the distraction to slip away, grab the refill dose, and escape. _Pity about Four, but if you were wounded badly enough to not be able to escape medical, you just had to put up with it._

Bond went back home and scrubbed the stink of airplanes and idiots off his skin, and pulled on his softest and scruffiest pajama bottoms. _Honestly, they would have been pitched in the rag bin long ago but some days just called for comfort over appearance._ He got into the back of his refrigerator and into the box of assorted pills and medicines he kept in there–given how long he was gone, it was only sensible to just keep it all in the fridge–and looked tiredly at the supplemental suppressant.

His implant would need to be replaced soon–they lasted a year at optimal and for field work he needed that optimal–and he wasn’t happy about the side effects of having implanted suppressants and taking the oral supplement. He poured himself a drink, swallowed the pill, and sat down on the sofa with a sigh. A faint smile curved the corners of his mouth up as he looked at the ugly china bulldog on his shelf.

“You believed in me,” he said, raising a glass to the bulldog as M’s stand in. “I doubt Mallory will be as understanding.”

He could hear her reply in his head, _“You have a workable track record, Bond: as long as you continue to produce results, he will continue to put you in the field; it would help if you turned in your reports, of course.”_ She would have said it with an arched eyebrow and the dryness in the last part would have been cutting.

Bond smiled, “Why you never hired more Omegas is beyond me, M. I saw a pretty thing in the airport that was a superior actor…”

 _“Because government idiots are still convinced that ‘typical Omegas’ can only be used as honey traps, and rarely then because they will instantly become attached and loyal to their targets.”_ Bond could hear the snort. _“Rubbish! Other countries use them for honey traps all the time.”_

“Seeing through that to their dissatisfaction was how we recruited the last two…”

_“YOU recruited the last two. Most of our other Double Os would have either disregarded them or treated them as brainless tools–probably gotten themselves stabbed.”_

“Most of the other Double Os are Alphas,” Bond said with an amused snort. “They all–”

 _“ALL?”_ and Bond realized he was replaying the oldest argument they had again and laughed. M had been anything but typical herself–as if any female Alpha was typical.

“I suppose I have to talk to Mallory.”

 _“Try not telling him how often you still talk to me, Bond.”_ M’s dismissive voice with a hint of fondness. _“The psych boys will have a field day.”_

Bond fell asleep on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond talks to Mallory  
> (still un beta'd because of my husband being ill)

Bond took the next day off to decompress and then called in to make an appointment with Mallory. He hesitated to admit that this? This worried him more than facing down a gun. 

He was half way into MI6 when he realized that he’d deliberately chosen the clothes that made him look the most evidently ‘Alpha’, not that people usually doubted it.  He parked the car and paused.  _You can do this…_

He walked in and relaxed slightly when he saw Eve–however oddly, she was a friend, and that helped.  A whisper in the back of his head asked if she would still be his friend if she knew. Probably, she was a Beta–they didn’t tend to have the same hang-ups.

Once he was shown in he requested the highest degree of lock down. Mallory just nodded and set it in motion.

“All right, Bond, what requires this level–oh please tell me we don’t have another mole…”

“Not that I know of, Sir…” Bond cleared his throat, “although I tend to assume we always have at least one.”

Mallory winced, “probably a safe bet.” He muttered. “Very well, then what can I–”

“This is both intensely personal, and related to my…position here.  It is something the previous M was aware of, but was never committed to paper,” he smiled, “or computer–fortunately.”

Mallory rubbed at his eyes, “I am finding that she … kept a great deal in her head, which has left me in a very poor position.  I would be grateful to know what you can tell me.”

“You probably won’t.” Bond sighed. “It’s evident that you are an Alpha…” Mallory quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t actually know much about your personal life–I used to badger into M’s all the time…”

“I was told that much.” Mallory nodded.  He looked thoughtful and got down a bottle of scotch. “Let’s just assume this is an informal discussion, shall we?”

Bond nodded gratefully, “Please.”

THAT caused Mallory’s eyebrows to head for his hairline. “Good God, I wasn’t certain you ever used the word un-ironically.”

“Not often,” Bond smiled faintly, “this is… this is horribly difficult.”

Mallory poured them both a short glass and sat back. “I know you lot all avoid medical and psych… I was warned about it, but…while I have never been a Double O I was a field agent, and I have been hurt.”

“One of the reasons I am hoping you will be able to deal with this.”

“Rape?” Mallory asked him calmly, “We do have–”

“While I have been, that’s not the problem… or at least it’s only peripherally related.”

Mallory blinked and sipped his scotch. “The extreme hesitance implied it.”

“Oh, it’s a quite reasonable guess.” Bond shrugged, “and it has happened–my line of work… and personally when I was younger, but…”  Bond sat up straighter and put his glass down carefully. “I am not an Alpha.”

Mallory’s mouth opened and shut and he looked him up and down, “You aren’t?”

“No.”

“I had been under the impression that most–”

“Most Double Os are, although not all.  The previous M was, of course.”

“THAT was obvious.” Mallory said with an affectionate tone. “I knew that within moments of meeting her: female Alphas either try to be anything BUT an Alpha, or they…. They exemplify it.”

“She was the only Alpha I have ever trusted to that level.” Bond said quietly.

“I assume that you were hurt by… well certainly a Beta isn’t likely to be as strong…’ Mallory looked like he was trying to reach out to Bond and had little idea how to do so, “I hope you do understand that most Alphas are not inclined to violence, simply having a higher aggression level…”

“I know more about Alphas than most Alphas,” Bond said tiredly, “Having to pretend to be one.”

“Ah… well…” Mallory took a sip of his scotch. “I give up.  What exactly do you need to talk to me about?”

“My medical needs will NEVER be handled here at MI6, except by one of two people, because they are the only two who know my secondary gender.  In addition certain mission parameters need to be discussed with more care…”

“Then… shouldn’t we have discussed the last one?”

“Yes, but I was being a coward.” Bond snarled down into his scotch.

“You sound like an alpha…”

“I can mimic one to perfection, my father… my father insisted.”

“Wanted an Alpha and couldn’t deal with having a Beta son?”  Mallory guessed, feeling more than slightly off balance.

“No, no, he was… he understood how much difficulty I would have. His brother, my uncle, had died after an assault, and he was determined to safeguard me; so I learned to imitate an Alpha and to defend myself: I’m a male Omega, like my uncle was.”

Mallory stared at him with this puzzled wrinkle between his eyebrows. 

“You…”  Mallory re arranged his desk papers. “That sounds rather unlikely…?”

“We are not as uncommon as people like to think,” Bond looked up, “Although very rare, of course, in field operations.  Among M’s numerous complaints was the inability of the intelligence committee to see reason about Omegas in spycraft.”

“I… had thought she was talking about honeytraps, not Double Os.”

Bond smiled viciously, “So tell me, Mallory… what is the reputation of Double O Seven?”

“Well, excellent if…” Mallory stared at him, “That you seduce your way through as many missions as you shoot through.”

“As an Omega I have certain advantages in that department.”

“I’ve never detected the slightest scent… Oh hell, yes I have.” Mallory sighed, “And like everyone I assumed it was from a bed partner.”

Bond shrugged. “I’m on implanted suppressants and I take further suppressants as well, plus birth control just to be safe–although the odds of a male Omega becoming pregnant are minimal– and MI6 already makes masking scents and false scents to wear.”  Bond looked up again, “So are you going to kick up a fuss about it?”

“I’m going to finish my bloody scotch.”

“fair,” Bond nodded, “I had that effect on her too.”

Mallory did, in fact finish his scotch and then considered. “This… revelation comes at an awkward time.”

“Oh?”

“One of our deep cover operatives got word to us of a meeting… we rather desperately need into it.  Some of the information Silva absconded with is possibly up for sale…”

“And what does that have to do with–” he narrowed his eyes, “I am no less competent to do my job now than I was yesterday.”

“That… isn’t the issue. We needed an Omega.”

“What?”

“The… the host of the party is involved in a number of… vile activities.  The likeliest option to get someone in as a guest is if they have an Omega–a possession, a bit of arm candy.”

“A trafficker? Wouldn’t having someone looking to BUY an Omega work just as well?”

“Someone who is looking to buy who already HAS one, or more, doesn’t get as much of a background check.” Mallory pointed out.

“Makes sense.” He raised an eyebrow. _Mallory couldn’t possibly mean to send me in as an Omega…_

“The problem is we don’t have one–at least none trained for this.  All of the Omegas at Six are in nursing or secretarial work and none… “

“Yes, M and I used to bemoan the fact constantly. We usually just sent in a Beta soaked in Omega pheromones.”

“Yes, I was told.  As an added complication we have to send a technology expert.”

“Well that rules me out.”

“The best option is for Q to go, although we haven’t discussed it yet.”

“What?!  The Quartermaster? Far too risky!”

“Depending on what they have? It might be needed…”

“You… aren’t sidelining me…” Bond mused, “But you CAN’T be planning to try to send me in as an Omega…”

“Despite you being one, Bond, you would hardly be believable.” Mallory sighed. “No,  but you see…one of the issues is scent, and if you, as an actual Omega… were to accompany Q…  the blend of genuine Omega scent with  the artificial… should  allow Q to pass.”

Bond sat back suddenly, “They have Omegas there, enough that the fake Omega scent would… be a tip off?  Could you try an Alpha with a pretty Beta  that he makes wear the pheromones?”

“That’s what we were going to do, but look at it this way: Q fits the stereotype of a male Omega well enough…”

“He could,” Bond allowed.

“And people chronically assume an Omega is an idiot.”

“True.” Bond narrowed his eyes and then smiled, “and if Q is a brainless Omega, then no one will even CONSIDER him as the computer expert.”

“Precisely… I had been planning on sending him in with one of the Alpha agents–possibly you, and then…” Mallory sighed, “You just dropped the perfect answer onto my desk. If anyone smells Omega on you it will be explained as Q’s scent…”

“It’s elegant…” Bond smiled and then hesitated, “But it’s still far too risky to send the Quartermaster.”

Mallory got a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to him, “THAT is what they claim to have for sale.”

Bond looked it over.  Several expensive Omegas–priced higher than normal so something extraordinary even for traffickers– and the data… oh dear GOD the data… not just MI6, but intelligence from all over the world…

“Isn’t there someone else?” Bond asked quietly. “I agree that we have to try for it, but…”

“The only person in a position to make the final decision on this is, in fact, the Quartermaster.”

“There is the problem that he is… we have… we have a conflicted relationship.”

“If you mean you drive the man to drink? Yes I’ve been told.” Mallory put the scotch away and got his office ready for a meeting. “Given the added security of your secondary, I think we should have the meeting here instead of the conference room.”

“I think it best.” Bond hesitated, “Thank you for taking this so well. I’m sorry I doubted.”

Mallory looked off at nothing for a moment. “Not a lot of people are aware of this, Agent Bond, but when I was held by the IRA I found out that some of their best agents were Omegas–because they were overlooked– and some were positively vicious.  I lost any concept that your gender was harmless the hard way.”

Bond inhaled sharply, “I… yes, well… especially to an Alpha…”

Mallory nodded, “I’m more likely to be prejudiced against you, or any Omega agent, based on that–not on any supposed harmlessness.” Mallory looked him over a final time before calling in Q, “you still don’t look it.”

Bond nodded, and they waited in silence for the Quartermaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #007Fest2018


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quartermaster arrives and ...  
> (Note: as a reminder the previous M's name was Olivia)

Q got the message that the meeting was moved to M’s office and noted that the secured electronics–the ones he installed–had been activated. He was braced for bad news when he walked in, so naturally Bond was there.

“I hardly think a secured meeting is warranted over this.”

M got a look on his face that was hard to decipher and said, “I am going to go to her grave and apologize.”

Q blinked several times, “Pardon?”

“If you actually know what this meeting is about, then we have worse security issues than I thought.” Bond said from his rather leonine sprawl on the chair.

Q frowned, “Perhaps I was hasty?   I did say it seemed unwarranted.”

M took a deep breath, “For the moment why don’t we pretend you just walked in and said ‘reporting as requested’ or something?”  He started opening drawers.

“M kept a stash of her headache pills in the Shakespeare bust on the shelf.” Bond said with an amused tone. “If you would like for me to get them?”

M’s shoulders sagged, “I’m going to go apologize AND pour out a bottle of scotch.  Yes, please.”

Q watched in puzzlement as Bond went over, tilted the head back on the bust and came out with a bottle.  Bond chuckled as he put it down.

Mallory groaned and held the bottle up.  In neatly typed letters the label said “Bond Pills: take two at the first sign of Bond.”

“Do you know what they ARE?” Q asked.

“Mild muscle relaxant and…  ibuprofen I believe.” Bond shrugged.

Q looked at them thoughtfully, “You should distribute them liberally.  Hell, they should come with your welcome packet.”

Mallory took the pills and sat up, “I shall cut to the point: an agent has gotten us information that the following is up for sale at a rather exclusive gathering.”  He handed Q the paper Bond had read earlier.

Q’s lip curled and then he became very quiet as he kept reading, and then finally he looked up, “You… you’re going to want ME to go… no one else could handle the security levels or the computer work.”

“Correct.” M sighed.

“I said it was too much risk for MI6s quartermaster,” Bond started.

“It is.” Q said tiredly, “Far too much risk, more importantly I don’t think it’s possible.”

“We have a solution, Quartermaster; We would like to send you in as an Omega–”

“No.”

“I know it’s embarrassing,” Mallory sighed, “But you have the needed skills, and we’ve come up with–”

“Embarrassing?  That’s the word you come up with?” Q stood very stiffly. “I can think of several better words.”

Bond sat up, “The point, Q , Is that no one will expect a bit of arm candy fluff to have brains, so they won’t watch you.”

Q glared at him, “I suppose you’ve been chosen to be the Alpha on this mission?”

“Yes, owing to some unique–”

“Mallory, let me make something QUITE clear: If any Alpha comes anywhere near me I am going to stab them with a pen, and I will MAKE a bloody exploding pen just for this.”

Mallory glanced wistfully in the direction of the scotch bottle, “Do I take it you have some issues with Alphas?”

“I have to WORK with these agents, Mallory!” Q snapped, “Did Bond set this up just to get into my pants?”

Bond snapped his head around, “I have NEVER even thought about risking your damn life–or the security of England– so I could get into your pants, Q!”  Bond’s voice was a pure Alpha snarl.

Mallory held up his hands, “Gentlemen!”  He pointed at Q, “Sit DOWN Quartermaster.” The command voice both of an Alpha and a military man quite clear–Q sat down grumpily.

When Q had settled, Mallory spoke clearly and forcefully. “Agent Bond was not aware of this issue. I had already, reluctantly, decided to ask you to impersonate an Omega for this and was just deciding on which agent to send.”

Q started blinking at him rapidly. “You… wait…what did you say?”

“Agent Bond then informed me of some highly confidential matters that increase the likelihood of this going off successfully, but ONLY if he is the agent  assigned–which since he told me BEFORE I explained the mission…”

Bond suddenly went off of the offensive, “OH... you think an Alpha agent is going to start pawing you–seriously, not as a cover role–because of the Omega pheromones?”  Bond shook his head, “First of all most of the agents are better trained than that, and secondly I’m not in the slightest affected by them.”

“You’re a dog, Bond.” Q rolled his eyes at him.

Bond grinned, “A bit, but you mostly see me on the JOB, Q, where I use whatever assets I have to get the job done, and if seduction can get it done more quickly and with less fuss?”

Q raised an eyebrow. “And you claim that you… YOU… can stand next to me bathed in Omega pheromones and not have that affect your opinion of me?”

Bond shook his head, “As I just finished explaining to Mallory; it couldn’t.  I’m not an Alpha.”

“You aren’t.” Q looked disbelieving.

“I’m not.”

“I have surveillance of missions with you seducing enough Omega mistresses to prove otherwise.”

“You don’t need to be an Alpha to seduce an Omega, Q.”

Q’s hands balled into fists. “Omegas are not SLUTS and they are not ready to fall into bed with just–”

Bond interrupted him by laughing.

“This is exactly what I was talking about!” Q hissed.

“I don’t think all Omegas are sluts, Q,” Bond wheezed, “but you did call me a dog just a minute ago.”

“YOU are a dog, I never said all Alphas are, and especially since you’re apparently a Beta that’s irrelevant!”

Q was clearly FURIOUS and Mallory tried to settle things down. “Bond is an OMEGA, Quartermaster.”

Q froze.  He turned to M with a look of disdain, “that isn’t even a funny joke, Mallory.”

“It’s not a joke,” Bond shook his head, “I JUST explained this to Mallory and then he told me about this assignment.  I’ll stop taking the supplementary suppressants and use the Alpha pheromone spray and any Omega scents will be attributed to you.  It will help balance out the fake Omega scents.”

Q sat very quietly, but both men could see him counting backwards from ten silently.

“Let me get this straight… You want me, a Beta, to pretend to be an Omega.  Bond here is ACTUALLY an Omega, and will pretend to be an Alpha… because everyone will be watching him and not paying attention to the decorative thing on his arm.”

“Correct.” M said, relieved that they were finally making progress.

Q stared at Bond. “And YOU… are an Omega?”

“Yes, and that is… beyond need to know.  M–the old M– knew, of course, but it was kept off the books.”

“…oh… was she… was she your Alpha?” Q’s voice was quiet and sympathetic.

Mallory’s eyes widened and shot to Bond.

“No.  An understandable mistake, but no.” Bond shook his head and smiled sadly, “If I were ever to have trusted an Alpha that far? It might have been her, but no… she was my… she was M.” he spread his hands helplessly. “She… she believed in me.  Believed I could do it–be an agent.  That’s all.”

Q sighed, “I’m afraid I started all of this off on… on a very poor foot.”

Mallory started, “You believed you would be disrespected for taking this role, and it WILL be a difficult role, but… can you come up with ANY other reliable techs that could pass for an Omega?”

“No.” Q shook his head.

Bond shrugged, “I would quite like to get into your pants, Q, but that’s personal and this is a mission.”

Mallory stared at Bond in disbelief.

“Why?” Q asked, but he wasn’t upset anymore.

Bond blinked, “Why what?”

“Why do you want to get into my pants if you aren’t an Alpha?  I rather put it down to the same reasons all the other agents act up around me–I look like an Omega– except all the other agents eventually settled down.”

“Do you actually want me to tell you why I think you’re attractive?” Bond grinned, “I will, but it’s got absolutely NOTHING to do with this mission.” The smile faded off, “I will need to be close to you, both for the role and to deal with the pheromones…”

“Ah... well… ah... no, you won’t...” Q sighed, “Do recall that I am one of the best computer experts in the world?”

“Yes, we are well aware.” M nodded, wondering just how he lost control of this discussion.

“My background has been edited–extensively– by me for security reasons.”

Bond shrugged, “Why not, I’d do it to my own files if I could.”

“I expect M erased your secondary gender from the records?”

“No need to, I passed as an Alpha from childhood.”

“What? How?!”

“After my… my father didn’t want me to be hurt or abused, so he rather drilled me on Alpha mannerisms… a few people in the Navy figured I was a Beta, but… I’ve been faking it from the get go.”

“Oh… that’s why… you are very convincing…” Q looked at Bond and bit his lip, “You are REALLY, seriously, not an Alpha?”

“Not an Alpha and not a Beta.” Bond nodded, “I get the suppressant implant–”

“And the extra pills,” Q nodded, “probably from Doctor Sinjay?”

Bond sat up, “Yes? How do you know that?”

“It’s who I get mine from,” Q rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “I’m an Omega.”

“Bloody hell…” Mallory put his head in his hands and wondered if Olivia was laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #007Fest2018


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short interlude

Bond went through the rest of the mission planning–the heavily revised mission planning– in complete shock. _Q was an OMEGA?_

Q insisted on making some custom tech for the job–given that he was taking unusual risks no one was going to argue– and Bond followed him down into a work space.  It had a few other people in it at first, but eventually it was just Q and Bond: Q working steadily and Bond having taken his jacket off and only half paying attention. At some point Bond started snickering.

“If it’s about my clothing, Bond…” Q said rather by reflex.

“No… just… every now and then the complete farce of this mission hits me.” Bond admitted. “It’s almost as though it’s a movie where all the actors are playing the wrong roles.”

Q stopped what he was doing and smiled faintly, “Highlander.”

“That… sounds familiar… is that the one I was thinking of?”

“A Scotsman playing an Egyptian in Spain, and a Belgian playing the Scot…” Q nodded, “Then of course there are some similar themes in Shakespeare… mistaken identity, and women playing men…”

Bond agreed and he actually dozed lightly for a while until Q moved, “Hmm?”

“Need to test this, Bond.” He was holding out the twin to Bond’s wristwatch.

Bond put it on and then, “I should have asked first, I suppose: what does it do?”

“It responds to a faster pulse or raised blood pressure reading by pumping out whatever chemical it’s been  loaded with–in this case the synthetic Alpha pheromones.”

“That’s brilliant!”

Q gave him a tired smile, “Yes it is, I only wish I had thought of it before… I could have used it for my masking scents.”

Bond hesitated, “I… have an idea for another option in addition–I think this will work wonders, though.”

“That is?”

“Make one that doesn’t pump Omega pheromones… but overrides the suppressants and triggers a heat.”

Q’s eyes widened in horror, “Those chemicals are banned for a damn good reason!”

“In England, and most places–not where we are going and traffickers will use them in any case.”

“So why,” Q shook his head, “Right, stop getting defensive–you aren’t…habit I’m afraid.”

Bond nodded, “If either of us actually went into heat… it would completely distract any Alpha in the area…” he slowly held up a hand and flexed it. “I was… I was forced into heat as a prisoner.”

Q stared at him in primal horror, “God…”

“It was, as you might imagine, rather horrific.” Bond looked up calmly, “But they completely stopped seeing me as a threat and I was able to kill them and escape… after some unpleasantness.”

Q pulled his cardigan tighter around himself, “You… are a very believable Alpha, Bond… even now I find it hard to keep in mind that you aren’t.”

“How well do you handle being in heat, Q?”

“Horribly.”

Bond sagged, “Then it likely wouldn’t work. I was thinking that in a bad spot you going into heat would at the very least be expected to take us BOTH out of consideration–you as the Omega in Heat and me in Rut… but if you lose your mind it won’t–”

“Oh… oh! that… yes of course… you would be unaffected… that might work…” Q looked at the tools on his desk, “In an emergency.”

Bond frowned, “But if you don’t do well…?”

“Ah… not THAT kind of problem, Bond…just memories.  As to the physical side of it: I don’t go passive or anything–I do get rather sex crazed and feverish, though.”

“Horribly?” Bond quirked an eyebrow.

“Ah… I get stroppy.”

“You’re always stroppy, more so before you have enough tea.”

“Picture me in a very, very, bad mood… with an itch I can’t scratch and a headache, and an ability to make weapons out of toaster parts.”

Bond blinked at him a lot. “Err…that actually sounds like it could be useful…”

“Oh yes, and I hate everyone.”

Bond smirked, “So a normal day then?”

“I LIKE my minions,” Q snorted, “Imagine me in such a bad mood that I hated R.”

“Can’t picture it.”

“And that’s why I hate being in Heat and avoid it at all costs–one reason.”  He looked curiously at Bond, “What are you like?”

“Err… well; I do get a bit…”  he winced and cleared his throat and found that Q was putting a cup of tea in his hand–he sipped gratefully. “In the first stages I get… tactile? Handsy… I start rubbing on things and most clothing is too rough… mid stage… well I’m afraid I do rather turn into a stereotypical sex crazed Omega.”

Q raised an eyebrow, “So a normal day, then?”

Bond laughed, “Touché.”

“But seriously, it sounds like you keep your head enough to act…”

“Not… during the middle of my Heat, no… or rather, not well. One time….” Bond shrugged, “One time I managed to kill the bastard in the middle of a Heat haze, but… honestly it was partly because he was terrible in bed–couldn’t even keep a Heat crazed Omega distracted.”

“Ouch…” Q grinned. “Might have been kindness to kill him, you could have said that on his social media page.”

Bond actually smiled faintly, “ah yes, I can see it now… ‘Bad Alpha, tiny dick, didn’t know how to use it anyway- no snacks.’ That would certainly have hurt his ego.”

“No snacks? Well then he definitely deserved it…” Q nodded solemnly and then, “I… I’m sorry I’ve been rather snappish at you, but you HAVE been acting like a stereotypical Alpha, and I despise that.”

“I internalized it a lot–I’ve played the role most of my life,” Bond stretched his legs a bit and considered, “I won’t lie about it: I practically AM the stereotyped Alpha… it’s how I know how to act, so… if you expect to suddenly find a cuddly Omega under it all… you won’t.”

“I was abused by my Alpha.” Q said quietly, “The fact that you aren’t actually one makes your behavior a lot more tolerable.”

Bond inhaled and tried to stop the rather idiotic urge to hunt the Alpha down and kill him– _Q probably did that already anyway_. “I’m sorry to hear it.  I… I’m an asshole, Q, but I try to keep my actually abusive behavior to what’s needed for missions.”

“I kind of figured that out from listening to Eve and a few of the others anyway… but… you set off my… I don’t think its PTSD, but… I was sort of charmed by you and then my guard would go up… hard.”

Bond nodded, “I set off a LOT of people’s danger alerts–for multiple reasons.”

“So… you want in my pants even if it’s not all hormones?”

“Not sure if anything is hormones or not, Q,” Bond grinned. “Look, physically? I have the body of an Omega, but mentally?  I’m closer to an Alpha.” He let his eyes wander over Q again, “You are physically attractive, and smart, and… I have a fondness for people who can dish it out as well as take it, and don’t just bat their eyelashes and coo at me.”

“So you LIKE hard to get?”

“Hard to get is lovely–able to actually keep up with me, AND I don’t have to lie about my job or intentions? Pure catnip.” Bond hesitated, “I never had anyone I didn’t have to hide my secondary from…I suspect that makes it even better.”

“I… don’t date much.” Q admitted, “I go out and party some, but I leave it in the club and usually go home alone–although Eve keeps trying to set me up.” He finally looked over at Bond and let his eyes linger a bit, “Same issues with security and gender.”

“So…” Bond walked over and leaned on the work table, “How about we take a break, get some rest and…get used to our covers?”

“That is a completely cheesy pick up line, Bond.”

“Is it working?”

“…yes.” Q hesitated, “I… after my Alpha, penetrative sex is…”

“Well, I don’t dare be the receptive party normally.” Bond shrugged, “But I don’t mind it.  Of course there are plenty of other things to do.

“You’d consider…” Q looked very speculatively at Bond’s ass.

“As long as you don’t restrain me, drug me, or so on?” Bond slung his jacket back over his shoulder and gestured to the exit, “You don’t trigger my bad memories, and you don’t smell like Alpha–neither will I if we shower first, and I can think of some fun things to do in the shower…”

Q smirked, “better take off your watch then… but… sure, why not.”

 


End file.
